April 21, 1197
It was hardly their usual joking, flirty conversational fodder. Gualtiero had asked after Alina quietly, and she'd found him sulking on the couch when she'd come down to greet him. As he'd said it, he barely met her eye, opting instead to direct his gaze to the window behind her, as if the outdoors were another year.
Alina, with the luxury of both parents still living, didn't know what to say to that. "Oh."
Gualtiero shuffled. What did he want? Comfort? Empathy? Reassurance? She could tell him it would be all right, agree that it wasn't, or convince him that it already was.
Gualtiero sniffed. "He'll be forty-two in July."
"Aged like a fine wine." Alina winked. One of her mother's favorite ways of teasing her father was to remark loudly how attractive she found Sir Bernardo, and as they'd grown into their appreciation of the male form, Alina and her sisters had to admit that the joke had rooted with a seed of truth. "Who is he marrying?"
"Of course I know--she's my step-cousin, after all. But you like Maddie." Everybody liked Maddie! She was lovely. And she sold them alcohol. "She's not closing up the inn, is she?"
"No, she just plans on commuting. But that's not the point." He sighed. Sighing didn't suit him. Alina was sure he'd be back to his old self once things settled, but this angst would be a painful sight while it lasted. "I mean... I know that my mother's been gone a while now, and that my father has to move on with his life. It just doesn't seem like it's been as long as it has, you know?"
"That's true. I guess they at least know each other's loss." Gualtiero slid to the center of the bench and slung an arm around Alina's shoulders, pulling her close in a half-hug. "Thank you. I hadn't really considered that. Not that it makes me feel entirely better, but... I don't know. You always make me feel a little better."
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